Discrimination against minority groups NZ

This beautiful piece was inspired by the events that occurred on the 15th of March 2019.

Zeinab Al-Hasani - 15/03/2019

Today, instead of straightening away my brown frizzy curls I will embrace them. 

Instead of shying away from my family when they speak Arabic loudly in public I will join them. 

Instead of saying no to someone when they ask ”say something in your language,” I will say it. 

Instead of telling my mum to make English food when my friends come over for dinner, I will ask her to make all the Arabic dishes she can think of. 

Instead of denying the roots of my name, I will admit that they are Muslim, I will tell you I was born a Muslim, and I will tell you that no matter if I identify as it or not, I will still die a Muslim. 

Today, I will join my mum as she reads the Quran, as she prays to Allah for the people who lost their lives, the people injured, and the people hurting. 

The last time I prayed to Allah I was 5 years old. My whole family came together to pray for my dad’s visa to get accepted so we could all move to New Zealand. Now, here we are, and never have I ever felt the feelings that I did in Iraq again except for this moment in time. 

I can’t help but think about waking up to being thrown out of my crib as bombings rocked our home and shattered our windows. About how the power went out everyday and we’d sit in the dark while my mum told jokes to distract from the fact that there was a war outside, and it wasn’t going away. About when my brother told us he saw a child die right in front of his eyes as his school bus drove right past a car bomb. My dad was watching the sunset from our second-story window when a missile screamed through the sky right into our neighbours house. As he raced out the door into the street, he saw our neighbour struggling to walk, carrying a little girl away from the rubble. Six of our neighbours died that day, and my dad had to tell my sister that 2 of those people were her best friends, both just 14. I remember my dad coming home with fear in his eyes as he received written threats, not long after two of his colleagues were murdered and another was kidnapped. We couldn’t help but get so used to the sound, that silence seemed scarier. Even now, the sound of fireworks makes me flinch.

We didn’t choose to be born into unsafe countries. We didn’t enjoy fearing our lives, just waiting for our turn to be next. We didn’t choose to have to turn to being refugees. We didn’t choose to leave everything behind. These countries, they’re like volcanos, and you never know just when they are going to erupt. 

I have been called a refugee, an immigrant, a terrorist, asked if I’m in ISIS, had bomb ‘jokes’ thrown at me up and down, so consequently I became ashamed. I began to avoid anything to do with my culture, because the only thing it seemed to be known for was terrorism. However; a portion of people abusing the religion is not in any way representative of the community, the culture, or the religion itself. The only thing I’m ashamed about now is being ashamed in the first place. 5 year old me with her suitcase makes me more me than anything else. 6 year old me learning my first word in English, sugar, makes me more me than anything else. Crossing my index fingers to form an X because I didn’t know how to say no, makes me more me than anything else. Crying at lunch times because I was too homesick makes me more me than anything else. I can’t just pretend my culture doesn’t exist, because I’d be erasing half my life.

I pride myself in being the type of person that is able to see the best in people. To be open minded, and to understand the reasoning behind why people say or do things. This however, I do not understand. I don’t understand why people can’t believe in the things they want to believe in, and do so safely and happily. Why can’t we all be seen as one? Because no matter what race, what culture, what country, what colour, and what religion you may have or may be, the one thing we all have in common is that we are all human beings. We are all the same species, and doesn’t it sound stupid to be against your own kind? What it means to be human falls under so many things, but it is humanity that keeps the world going. Without it, all that would be left is chaos. Today, we have lost touch of humanity, we have slipped behind as a world. But tomorrow, we can change that. Tomorrow, let us change that. Tomorrow, we need to change that. ____________ (a) What will Zeinab do instead of straightening her curls?

She will embrace her curls

(b) What foods will Zeinab’s mother make for her friends?
Arabic dishes instead of English foods

(c) What kind of name-calling did Zeinab receive?
A refugee, an immigrant, a terrorist, asked if she’s in ISIS, had bomb ‘jokes’ thrown at her up and down

(d) What did Zeinab have to say about people who abuse the religion?
It’s not in any way representative of the community, the culture, or the religion itself

(e) What does Zeinab pride herself in?
She is able to see the best in people. To be open-minded, and to understand the reasoning behind why people say or do things.
(a) Why does the sound of fireworks make Zeinab flinch? Reminds her of the bombing in her country
(b) Explain what this simile means “These countries, they’re like volcanos, and you never know just when they are going to erupt.” Never knowing when people are going to hate on you and your religion.